You illuminate my being. When the sun goes down and vapors of a hot and humid day hang low, you tiptoe along one by one across the skyline. Soft-footed. I lay back and marvel at how you engulf the velvet blue of the evening and add a surreal neon glow to the edges of the sky. You are the prelude to a wafer-thin moon floating like a forgotten kite; the precursor to tiny, mad hoppers appearing out of nowhere, flitting across the grass like Gulliver’s little world come alive. You come on and make a hushed shadow fall across the park and embolden me enough to grasp the dark lushness of grass with a certain fearlessness. You do not deter plump little fireflies -they still appear, not bedazzled by your light but a little lost in spite of their own. There is comfort in your impersonal, flickering fire. You are the beacon, the siren call, the true north that all dark thoughts seek.
13 years ago
